Silent Stalker
by Lt. Rip Van Winkle
Summary: Amelia Bernadette Pip & Seras's Daughter finally thinks that she's going to have her life back to the way it was before an 'incident', but what's this shadow following her around? PUHLEESE R&R! NEW CH. 2!
1. Mia

Disclaimer: I don't own Hellsing or any characters affiliated with Hellsing, but all them other characters are all MINE!

A/N: Hi ya'll! New story and junk! Hope you like it… not much else to say about it, um… I'll probably be working on this one for a while to kinda give my other one a break so I can think up some more ideas. Now I know that this chapter may be kinda boring, BUT DON'T STOP READING! I'M BEGGING YOU! I just have to get some plot out of the way before it REALLY gets going. Thank you for your patience and… oh yeah! It's recently come to my attention that the page breaks that I put in on my computer don't show up when I upload my stories, so from now on page breaks will look like this Page Break m'kay? We good? GOOD! Then enjoy my new story and PLEASE don't forget to R&R!

Chapter 1 – Mia

She sat by the mirror, brushing her long dark tresses, taking no notice of the storm outside. The candlelight cast flickering shadows on the letters, half-folded, lying on the dresser.

_Soon my love, soon we shall be together._

The fury of the wind intensified and the window banged open. She rose elegantly to close it, her dark brown hair falling down her back. She walked, now floated it seemed, to the window, shut it, and pale hands closed the latch.

She sighed. The storm was ever worsening and soon she would have to enter it to meet him. _I suppose I should change into something less refined, but he loves to see me in this gown, _she thought as she looked down at her shimmering satin gown with matching slippers. It was a beautiful blue color, to bring out her grey-blue eyes.

She drearily watched the storm for a few more minutes, and then decided it best to change and head out. The time to meet her lover was drawing nigh.

She turned around…

"AAARRRGGGHHH!" Her petrified scream was heard throughout the mansion.

Page Break

BANG! "OI Mia, rise and shine!" Stupid brother. He just loves to bug me early in the morning. Oh well, I'll get him later. It's probably time for school anyways.

I roll over in bed, put my glasses on, and look at the door Patrick just kicked. It sends shivers down my spine, thinking about how splintered and broken it had been when they'd kidnapped me. Of course I'd been terrified, but as hard as it may be to believe, there were good points. They'd taken me to Italy, where I was saved by a young Iscariot agent, Jon Anderson. I then went to "Ferdinant Lukes" which is an orphanage near Rome, where I waited for someone from Hellsing to pick me up and take me back to England.

As I get up I can't help but wonder, as I've done many times before, why would they have taken me and not Muriel or Tessa. They're Sir Hellsing's daughters after all, not me. I'm just simple little Amelia Bernadette.

I walk to the closet to find my school uniform. I go to a private school in the depth of London. A school for the smart and the rich, and somehow I qualified for the smart. I lay it on the bed, and head for the bathroom.

There's another knock on the door as I walk out of the bathroom, still braiding my hair.

"Mia are you up yet? You're going to miss the bus."

"Coming mom," I say as I step into my skirt and do up my shirt and vest of my uniform. _Now where did that hat go?_ Our uniforms were recently remodeled, so now the girls have to wear a French-styled chapeau thing. But since I used to wear one with a Hellsing uniform, I quite like it.

I'm still braiding the other half of my hair (I wear pig-tail braids) as I walk out of my room. My hair is dark-brown, annoyingly straight, easily tangled, thick, and a little more then shoulder length. Everyone else in my family has lovely blonde hair, and somehow I'm a brunette. _Oh well, maybe I'll bleach it sometime without telling anyone._ My parents are kinda sticklers for artificial hair colour… meh, whatever.

"Have fun at school, sis." I glower at him. Patrick and Muriel graduated last year, so I'm the last one from the Hellsing bunch still going. I just started my second-last year and I already hate it. School used to be one of my strong-points, but since being banned from Hellsing work last summer and since then I just can't find an interest in anything I used to.

I sigh. _Whatever, things'll get better._

I pick up my school-bag and head for the door, still braiding my hair. I'm usually a little scatter-brained in the morning. Since sleep is one of my favourite things in the whole world, I skip breakfast every morning just to get more of it. My morning usually contains my waking up, taking 20 minutes to actually **get** up, finally deciding it's time to move my sorry arse, putting my glasses on, going to the bathroom, getting dressed, finishing braiding my hair, and a mad dash for the bus. The dash has been worse lately, because when Muriel and Patrick, even Derrick, were on, they would at least stall the bus driver for a few minutes. But now that I'm on my own, I've missed it a couple of times and had to ask my dad or someone else for a ride to school.

As I walk out the back door I see the bus pulling up at the end of the **long**, tree-lined driveway. Once again I'm faced with my morning choice:

a) run for it

b) sucker someone into giving me a ride. Since I've already missed the bus twice this week, I decide on b, and run for it.

Luckily, I make it. But by the time I do I'm sweaty and panting. I take my usual back seat and plug myself into my music, drowning out everything else.

I get to school without anything out of the ordinary happening. Don't know what I was thinking, nothing interesting ever happens to me anymore, and as a result I've become very depressed. I walk to my locker without running into any of my friends, which is kind of a relief. I share a locker with my friend Mallory, and man does she ever have a lot of junk in here.

I walk to my first class, English. Apparently the friend I have in this class, Cynthia, isn't here today. Oh well, not like I'm overly sociable these days anyways. Class starts and we're studying the story "The Telltale Heart" by Edgar Allen Poe. Analyzing short stories is really boring, so I listen to the story, but then tune out completely.

After English, I move on to Physics. Not too much more interesting, but definitely more challenging. But honestly, who even cares about the velocity of a stupid little cart thingy moving down a ramp? It's my personal opinion that the people who invented this stuff had WAY too much time on their hands.

Then finally lunch. I can almost hear the halleluiah chorus.

"Mia, over here! We saved a seat for you!" Mallory calls out as I enter the Cafeteria. _Saving me a seat is kind of pointless_ I think as I walk over to our usual corner table and sit down in my usual place.

"Did you see the play auditions sign-up? It looks like it's going to be a good one this year," says Pammy, another one of my pals. I can tell this comment is directed at me. All my friends are big theatre folk, and it's been their life-long ambition to get me into a play.

"Yeah, I saw it. But I seriously doubt that I'm going to be signing up," I reply.

"Why not? You're really good at stuff like that." Now normally quiet Julia's joined in. Julia and I have been friends since we started school, both only here because we passed the entrance exams.

"No."

"But—"

"No, and that's final." Mallory gives me a disgusted look changes the subject. We talk about things that have no real importance until the bell goes and third class starts.

We all have psychology. It's boring as anything, but its fun to have us all in the same room at the same time. We spend all our time talking and passing notes.

Everyone is working on the assigned questions, when Julia, who sits in front of me, passes me a note. It reads:

"Why don't you just sign up? I will if you will, and you know how much I hate talking in front of other people. Please?"

I sigh. I never could say no to sweet little Julia. She's the spinning image of innocence itself, and would do anything for anyone.

So, I grudgingly write back "Alright fine, you win. I'll put my stupid name on the stupid paper." Well I can't sound too happy can I?

I pass it back to her. She reads it, turns around and smiles.

"Thanks Mia."

Page Break

I flop on my, amazed at how boring my life's gotten. Last year at this time I was with my dad and Hellsing's army practicing my shot, and doing fun stuff like that. But since I got back from Italy, Dad hasn't even let me near HQ, so now I sit in boredom while my aim becomes that of a withered old man with cataracts.

_Maybe I'll do homework… no, I'll change first, and then I'll do my homework._ I get up and rummage through my dresser to find some clothes. Another difference, before I'd be putting on a Hellsing uniform and going to HQ to research some new form of FREAK.

I take off the school uniform and put on a t-shirt and some blue-jeans. Looking at myself in the mirror I see a blank reflection, and my dead-looking eyes silhouetted by my dark hair. Excluding glasses and dark hair, I really do look a lot like my dad. Man, I miss spending time with him. I hardly ever see him now, and that's another contributing factor to my current depression.

Walking to the desk in the corner of my room, still thinking about Dad, I pull out my homework and sit down.

I'm halfway through my physics homework when my resolve hardens and I stand up.

"I have to talk to Dad. I'm in the depth of depression and I want to see him more, and do more for Hellsing and… and… I have to get my mind off of this." I head up out of the basement, and to HQ.

I find Dad in the control room yelling into a radio. He's not really mad, but on the other end of the line, it must be kind of scary.

Knowing better then to interrupt, I stand by the door and wait, looking at my father. He's pretty tall, strong… I dunno, just a chick magnet. He looks a lot younger then he actually is, and apparently I look older then I am, which leads to awkward situations. For instance, last summer he took me to a movie and the guy at the ticket counter asked if we were dating. I went beet red and Dad just about killed himself laughing. I almost felt sorry for the ticket box guy when Dad pointed out, still laughing his head off, that I'm his daughter.

He flicks off the radio, now laughing, and flips his long braid behind his back. He turns around and notices me standing by the door. _I hope I caught him in a good mood._

"Mia, what're you doing here?"

"Hey Dad, can we talk?"

"Bout what?"

"Well… how come Patrick gets to help here and I can't?" Oh jeeze, did I just say that? Well this isn't going to end well, that's practically the catch phrase to tick him off, and he can definitely come up with lots of come backs on this topic. But I must fight on!

"How old are you?"

"Dad that doesn't–"

"How old are you?"

"15… but–"

"And how old is Patrick?"

"But Dad—"

"How old is he?"

"18… But—"

"Exactly. He's 18, you're 15. Give it a few years."

"You let me work here when I was 14 and younger, so—"

"Is there a point to this, or are you just looking for a fight? Because if you are, I'm **not** in the mood." He's dead serious, and looks like he's starting to get mad, but then, so am I.

"You won't listen to me! You never listen to me anymore! This is all because of last—!"

"Mia, consider this your last warning to let this drop." Dad's voice is deadly quiet now, like the calm before a storm, but now I'm REALLY riled up.

"No, I am NOT letting this go! Not until you listen to me! I'm not a little kid anymore! I don't need round-the-clock protection! I don't need any protection, I'm sick of this! Why do you have to be so over-protective! Just—"

"AMELIA!" Oh dear, Dad blew his top. If I was in a normal mood, I'd be running for my life right about now.

If looks could kill, that scowl he's giving me right now would knock my block off. His fists are furled and he's standing up now, towering over me. I know he'd never hit me, but at moments like this I wonder…

"Look, just… just go to your room." He says it through clenched teeth. One look says that if I stay he'll probably murder me, and I really do want to run for it, but refuse to give him the edge.

"FINE!" I yell back. I turn on my heel and stomp to the door, where I stop. "Hey dad… I HATE YOU!" I slam the door behind me against that almost sad look he gave me and run all the way to my room. Tears are burning in my eyes. I didn't want to mean those horrible words, I still don't but… somewhere deep down, I think I do.

I reach my room and throw myself onto my bed, sobbing. I finally said it… Lying on the bed crying I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Mia, sweetie what's wrong?" Mom has entered the scene.

"N—nothing! Leave m–e al—lone!" She sits down on the bed beside me, her hand still on my shoulder.

"Did you and your father have another fight?"

"M—maybe." I do so love being difficult. But Mom, unlike Dad won't get angry. I don't think I've ever seen her angry, upset maybe, but never angry. She strokes my shoulder and hair.

"It's alright Mia, don't cry. It'll be OK."

"N—no it won't! He n–ever l—listens to m—me! He alw—ways gets mad and st—starts yelling, or t—tells me to le—leave."

"He means well, Mia. He really does, but he's just worried about you. He doesn't… I don't ever want to go through what happened last summer again…" There's a tremor in her voice now. I can tell that she's on the verge of tears too. For no reason at all, this angers me.

"What you went through! Think of what I went through!" I'm up off the bed now in a hysterical rage. My mom is just looking at me with understanding. Anger is consuming me. I feel like a monster; that'll be the vampiric side of me taking over. It still frightens me that I'm a half-blood vampire and every-so-often I get angry like this. It's all I can do to keep from lashing out at my mom.

"Mia, please sit down. We need to talk," she says calmly. Talk? TALK! I'm way past the point of talking. "Mia, sit down and control yourself. I know it's hard, but you have to fight for control."

I force myself to sit down, still seething. I don't want to hear what she has to say, don't want to know their excuse.

"Now Mia, I know you're upset and frustrated, but please calm down enough to hear me out. Try to picture where your father and I are coming from. Imagine going to check on your little girl to find the door shattered, and your daughter missing. Visualize, if you will, the fear, the worry of desperately trying to find her, and after a week of no luck, still wondering if she's dead or alive, getting a call from Iscariot saying they found her. Try to feel the joy, the relief of knowing your only daughter is safe and well. You know Mia, there are two sides to every story, and when we found you… Well… I don't think I've ever seen your father so worried, or relieved. Just think of that next time."

My anger is evaporating. I don't want to be mad, not at anyone, but… well… I can feel the guilt tugging at my heart, and I know my apology's coming.

"I'm sorry Mom… it's just… just… I don't know… I want to be free, and lately it seems that everyone's holding me back…"

"I know Mia, I know. Things will get better, don't worry." We hug and I hear my cell phone ringing. I let go of Mom and pick it up.

"Hi Mia! Are you busy?" It's Julia.

"No, why?"

"Wanna go for a bike ride and get some ice-cream?"

"Umm… I'll ask my mom," the second I open my mouth to ask, she nods and I'm good to go. "Yeah, sure, I'll be over in a minute."

Page Break

I stand by Dad's bedroom door in my pyjamas, trembling from head to fluffy bunny slippers (Patrick got them for me for Christmas).

After my talk with Mom and a nice, long bike ride with Julia my head is clear. I'm calm and relatively happy again, and I hope he is too.

I raise my hand, knock on the door, and wait, bunny's still shaking.

He opens the door with a blank face and looks at me.

"Yes?"

"Umm… Dad… I … Umm…" _Just say it, say it now!_ "I'm sorry!" I blurt out, "I didn't mean what I said before, only I never get to see you anymore, and I know you're just trying to protect me, but you're my dad and we used to spend so much time together and now you're never around and I can't be around where you are and—"

"Were you planning on taking a breath? Cause if you pass out, we'll have a problem." He's smiling. I feel like such a dumb little kid, but I hug him anyways. I love my dad.

"I'm sorry… I—"

"I know, I know. I heard the rants, both of them. Just thank your lucky stars you got my temper." OK, now he's being sarcastic, but it's true. We're a lot alike, maybe too much so.

Oh well. I'm just glad we don't hate each other anymore, and maybe now things will finally start to improve.

A/N: So how was it? Bad? Good? Needs work? Of course it does! This is only the first chapter! Anywho… Please R&R and… Man, I can never think of what to say on these things, maybe I should just have one at the beginning… NO! I LOVE TO TALK TOO MUCH! I HAVE TO DO IT EVERY CHANCE I GET! Sorry for wasting your time if you read the last few sentences, YOU'VE BEEN SERVED TII! (totally irrelevant information) TOOTLES! UNTIL NEXT TIME! (Which will hopefully be very soon 'cause I love you guys!(In a friendly way!))


	2. Antoinette

Disclaimer: I am not owning Hellsing, but the original plots are being mine! (Unless you've ever seen Chilly Beach, you probably won't get this, it's a Constable Al reference (I don't own him either, but he's pretty funny!))

A/N: Hey y'all! How's it going? I'm still good. Just a warning, chapters may not be going up too fast because I'm hitting exam time soon and I have to start studying, so consider yourself warned! Anywhosies… this chapter is a little different from the other one, and I know that it almost seems original… BUT IT'S NOT! This is just the other side of the story, and once again I'm just getting some plot out of the way. It will all make sense later, and I hope it's more interesting then the first chapter (if you like the first chapter… VIRTUAL HUG! You rock! I tried to make it interesting, but it was kinda hard!) But anyways, this chapter takes place in 18th or 19th century France. I tried to give hints, but it didn't work out to well, so I'll just tell ya now! Well… I'm talking too much again and we gotta get this story rolling so… TOOTLES FOR NOW!

Chapter 2 – Antoinette

"She really is the bell of the ball" or "That young lady is most definitely going to marry well" were comments that constantly followed her.

As a young girl she was clumsy and awkward, a true diamond in the rough. But, as diamonds are, she was perfected into the young lady the young men all flock to, and all the men of the court talk about. However, did she enjoy the attention, the envy of the other girls? Or would she rather have left it all behind for someone?

Page Break

"Antoinette, sit up straight! Put your shoulders back! Have you no pride in yourself!" If I gave her the answer she would get Papa involved, and I do so hate making him angry with me. So, I listen to her accusing shouts silently, and obey.

Obey obey obey is all anyone can tell me. As a girl I'm told to obey Papa, obey Madame Bardeau my governess, obey Jean my older brother, and when I finally do marry I'll have to obey whatever man Papa chooses for me. But, such is the life of the daughter of a French Monarch. My Papa is a distant cousin of the King, and a prosperous businessman in Paris.

"Antoinette are you even listening to me!"

"I am sorry Madame."

"You foolish child, can't you do anything right!" I can feel my eyes filling with tears. I don't like to be scolded, or told I'm useless, but Madame Bardeau seems to think it progressive.

"Now, since you lack in etiquette, let us try writing. Rewrite every letter in this book into your notebook." She gives me a sadistic smirk. There are over 100 letters, and I have only re-copied 15 so far. I look at her in awe.

"All of them Madame?"

"Did you not hear me, you stupid girl! Your father hired me to make you into a lady, do you wish to disappoint him!"

"No Madame."

"They **write**, or I will have to tell him of your serious misconducts!" I lower my head to the writing desk where I am sitting. These letters will take hours to recopy.

I have always been told not to hate, by church, by Papa, and most importantly by, by Mama, but Madame comes closer to my hate then any other person has. Oh how I miss Mama. She would not have allowed this verbal abuse from Madame Bardeau to continue. But I should be writing so as not to anger Madame again.

I've written for about an hour (Madame left the room after 10 minutes) when Jean comes in.

"Nettie, what's that old bat got you doing this time?"

"Jean! You shouldn't speak that way of people, it's rude!"

"I hear the way she talks to you. I've tried to tell Papa, but he won't hear anything of it." I smile. It's nice to have someone on my side, and Jean is allowed to be so much more verbal then me. "Would you care to go for a walk? It's a beautiful day."

"But Jean, I cannot. I have too much work to do."

"So do I, but everyone deserves a break every now and then." With that, he grabs my arm and drags me to the front door. I will admit, a walk is very tempting right now, but what if we should be caught?

"Jean, we really shouldn't! What if—what if we're caught?" I say in a rush as he drags me out the door and crams a parasol into my hands.

"Oh you're too proper, lighten up sis." I glower at him. He doesn't know the half of it. He Papa's apprentice, so when he's out with Papa I'm being put through my paces with social graces and high manners. At first, it was enough to make one want to scream. But, after a while you learn it is better to submit to it then to fight against it and anger Papa. Jean never understood this, and still does a lot of fighting for me.

"May I buy you a financier?" (French Almond Cake)

We're walking down a sunny, tree-lined street now, and I must say that I am enjoying myself. But what will Madame say when she finds me gone? It's best not to think about it.

"Alright." We walk up to a small bakery, Jean makes the purchases, and we stroll to the park. I take a seat on a bench and he joins me.

"So Nettie, how are your studies going?"

"Quite fine, thank you."

"They trained you to say that, didn't they?"

"No—"

"Jean Robichaud? Is that you?" I look up to see a young lady, about Jeans age, standing in front of me. Jean stands up.

"Louise? Wow it's good to see you."

"And who is this?" She waves her hand in my direction.

"That's my sister, Antoinette."

"Will she be attending the ball tomorrow night?" Just as I thought, either she's noble, or her family has connections. They must if she knows Jean. Papa only lets us associate with the best of the best, heritage wise.

"As far as I know, yes."

"She looks like a doll, what a sweet child." Now I'm tired of this. I get up.

"I beg your pardon mademoiselle, but I am **not **a child. I am 15, and Jean, I wish to go see the gardens. So when you are done speaking with your friend, you'll know where to find me," and I turn and walk away before he can say anything else. She's probably just an old girlfriend anyways.

I walk to the magnificent garden at the center of the park. I haven't been here for a very long time. They've added a fish-pond. I walk over to it and look into the clear water. There are a few water plants in it, and some goldfish.

Someone is shouting behind me. I keep my back turned, ignoring them, until I hear running footsteps coming up. I start to turn around to see what's going on…

WHAM! Someone knocks into me and I can feel myself falling…

SPLASH! We tumble into the pond.

I come to the surface, spluttering, at the same time as the boy who knocked me in. I glare at him.

"Why would you do that!" I shriek at him. My gown is now ruined, and Papa will most definitely be angry.

"It's not like I did it on purpose!" He seems equally angry, but why I do not know. After all, it's his fault that he fell, not mine. He starts to flounder to the side. I start to open my mouth to yell at him again but…

"Nettie! What are you doing! Hey boy, what did you do to my sister!" Jean's back. He hauls the boy out of the water by his arm.

"Nothing! I didn't do anything!"

"But you are lying! He ran into me and we fell in." Jean is now attempting to help me out of the water, while trying to restrain the struggling boy.

"What's your name boy?"

"None of your—"

"You've ruined my sister's new gown, now what's your name!" Jean is starting to get angry now; I think it would be in this boy's best interest to give Jean his name.

He glowers at my brother. "It's Jon. Jonathan Reneax."

"Well then, we'll be in touch." He shoves the boy, Jon, away. "Let's go Nettie." I stand in awe, looking at the boy. Now that I see him truly, I see that does not look very French, and he's not really a boy. That meaning, he is undeniably grown up. He's just about as tall as Jean, with golden-blonde hair, greenish-blue eyes, just the right amount of muscles…

"NETTIE!" Jean's shout pulls me out of my day-dream. "It's time to go home now, you have to change." He puts his jacket over my slim shoulders, and we walk away.

Page Break

"I wonder who he was?" I ask myself as I pull off my dressing gown and step into the tub. _He was quite handsome._ What did he say his name was? Jon… umm… I have always struggled with names. I hold my breath and slip my head under the hot water. I love to take baths. The hot, steamy water always has a way of calming me down and clearing my head. I am in need of this; I've endured many a tongue lashing today. Madame was angry because I left my studies, and Papa was angry because I ruined my gown and wondered off alone.

_I wonder if I'll ever see him again?_ Honestly! I have just had one of the most trying days of my life and all that I can think about is some boy I met at the park. Now I'm angry with myself, when I was a child and was told that Papa would be choosing me a husband, I swore to myself I would never fall in love.

I come up for air to hear a knock at the door.

"Mademoiselle Robichaud, there is a young man at the door to see you. He says he has something that belongs to you. Should I let him in?" It's the maid. My heart, unwillingly, skips a beat. _Could it be him?_

"What's his name?"

"He said it was Jean Reneax. Should I send him away?" It is him!

"No, let him in and tell him I will be with him momentarily."

"Yes Mademoiselle." I hear her receding footsteps. _I finish my bath later_ I think as I pull myself out of the tub. I wonder what he could possibly have for me. After all, our meeting was brief and not at all pleasant. How does he even know who I am?

I dress, and redo my wet hair into a knot on the back of my head. _I do hope I look presentable._

Jean and Papa are not home right now, and I don't know where Madame goes in the evening. I walk to the entrance hall, where I see Jon standing, looking at one of my father's sculptures.

"Welcome Monsignor Reneux, how may I help you?" All my years of taught grace are helping now. I just hope that I don't do something clumsy, like tripping over my long skirt.

"You don't have to call me that."

"But isn't that your name?"

"Yes, but I would prefer it if you called me Jon. But I don't believe I caught your name."

"Antoinette Robichaud."

"That's a mouthful." I stifle a laugh; he should hear my full name.

"Would you like to come in?"

"Thought I already was." He seems to be a difficult person to entertain. But, I have to be a lady.

"I mean come in and sit down."

"Well, if you're offering," and he follows me to the parlor.

"Take a seat please."

"But it's impolite to sit before a lady does, even I know that." I **almost **giggle again and sit; he follows suit and the maid, Maria, brings us tea.

"So what is it you do Mon—"

"Jon."

"Oh… alright, Jon."

"I'm a courier. For now anyways, until my father gets back on his feet. He's a tradesman, but he got hurt."

"How dreadful!" He bursts out laughing. "What's so funny, Jon?"

"You! You're such a lady!" he barely chokes out between fits of laughter. I glower at him, who gave him the right to judge?

"I fail to see how that's—"

"But that's not why I came," he interrupts. "I came to ask you how much that gown I wrecked cost, and to return this." He produces my parasol. I must have dropped it when we fell!

"Thank you, and you do not have to worry about the dress. I have many others, and that one was too tight anyways." That's a lie. That had been a new gown Papa gave me when he returned from Vienna a few weeks ago.

"No really, here." He gives me a handful of money. "I have to go now. Bye." He gets up and makes to leave.

"Wait!" I hear my own voice say it, though I don't know why.

"What?"

"Umm… nothing… goodbye Jon." He smiles and leaves. _I wonder if I'll ever see him again?_

Page Break

"Welcome mademoiselle. May I take your coat?

"Thank you," and I hand him my wrap. _My, what a grand place _I think as I look around the house.

I'm at the Chesnay's Ball in their grand manor on the outskirts of Paris. The ballroom has a high, carved ceiling with a beautiful chandelier hanging in the center, with paintings and works of art hanging on the walls. Since I have no intentions of dancing, I leave the ballroom to go and find a place to sit and watch the ball progress.

I just find a seat when a young man walks up to me.

"Excuse me, mademoiselle. May I have this dance?" I am shocked. No one has ever asked me to dance with them before.

"M… may I know your name first?"

"Henri, Henri Chesnay."

"Oh, it is a pleasure to meet you, Monsignor." He's a Chesnay! What is the son of one of the most prosperous families in Paris talking to me for?

"And who might you be?"

"Antoinette Robichaud."

"Oh, so your Jean's little sister. Louise told me all about you." So THAT'S who that Louise girl was. This must be her younger brother. "So will you dance with me?"

"Of course." I stand up and walk with him to the ballroom. I don't really enjoy dancing, but apparently I'm quite good at it. Not even Madame Bardeau could seem to find any criticisms when she was teaching me. Mama taught me first, though.

We are walking up to where Papa and Jean are standing. Papa looks at me with a strange expression. As Henri and I walk past, Papa whispers in my ear, "You look just like your Mama." I look at him, could it be? Is he really… proud of me?

A/N: Sooo… How was it? Better? Worse? Do you like Mia or Antoinette better? If you say neither… PREPARE YOURSELF FOR HATEMAIL! Just kiddin'! As I said before, they will tie into each other eventually, so give it time. Well… I can't think of anything else to say other then PUHLEESE R&R, and GO OILERS!


End file.
